


Ships in the Night

by mnemosyne23



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 12:17:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17487914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemosyne23/pseuds/mnemosyne23
Summary: On an exotic, pre-industrial alien planet, Malcolm and Hoshi finally give in to the tension (originally posted to Linguistics Database c. 2002-2003)





	Ships in the Night

The Ak'Sul Bazaar had come again to Suidin, and the entire city had emptied out to buy and trade for goods from all four corners of the Great Continent, and even some from the Lesser Islands. Spice hung in the moist evening air, rising on the gentle breeze like exotic alien perfume. Paper lanterns flickered in the narrow cobbled streets, illuminating the wood and canvas awnings of hundreds of open air stands, whose vendors were - even at this late hour - plying their wares as though it were high daylight. They had no shortage of customers; people kept coming, clogging the streets and bartering with an ease that comes from generations of practice. Narrow buildings - none of them taller than three stories - reared up on either side of the street, sheltering buyers and sellers alike from the cool, freshening breezes of an approaching rain shower.

Malcolm Reed, armory officer of the starship _Enterprise_ , watched the activity from his third story room in the Ar'Lei Zerta - or, as Hoshi had put it, the pre-industrial Ritz Carlton. He liked the room; the bed was comfortable, the decor was warm and inviting, and the windows closed tightly. He also had a good view of much of the street below, which they had determined from space was the main artery of the entire city. Malcolm was never a man to deny the importance of three or four good escape routes.

The Su'eel were a handsome race; extremely similar to humans, but for some subtle variations. Their irises all held an unusual opalescent quality, like the surface of a soap bubble, that changed with the angle of the light. Their skin was flecked with a shimmery substance, much like mica, which made them sparkle like muted starlight in the illumination cast by the paper lanterns down below. Most - with the exception of small children - had decorative designs tattooed in blue ink on their faces, regardless of skin tone. The patterns weren't uniform, and seemed to vary by personality. Earlier that day, Malcolm had seen one woman with an enormous spiral that covered one cheek, starting at the outer corner of her eye and circling ever in on itself, until it was dizzying to watch. He was thankful Phlox had used only semi-permanent dye for the away team's tattoos, and that his own designs were relatively small and simple. All the froo froo about the eyes and skin had been enough for him, frankly. He still wasn't used to seeing himself sparkle.

Currently, his opal-eyed attention was focused on the hustle and bustle in the street below; or, more accurately, on one corner of hustle that had a familiar bustle to it. Trip - dressed in the traditional male garb of loose pantaloons, gathered at the waist and ankles, and a tapestry vest - was haggling with a vendor over the price of something that looked like a mix between an apple and a pomegranate. Either the UT had stopped working or the merchant was a hard sell, because the debate didn't seem to be getting anywhere fast. Malcolm couldn't resist a chuckle as he leaned in the window and watched. "It's in your best interest to give in, chap," he murmured, watching the trader wave his hands in a _No!_ gesture. "Trip's not going to give up till he's got your appagranate thing, and he can be bloody hard-headed when it comes to things like that."

He laughed again, then let his eye wander down the street in search of other crewmembers. T'Pol, he knew, was in her own room down the hall, meditating quietly away from the busy crowd, but Mayweather was out there somewhere; probably blushing wildly under the goggle-eyed awe of some of the local ladies. Then..

...There was Hoshi. Like the petals of a flower, the crowd suddenly opened out, and he could see her. An elderly Su'eel was trying to sell her something resembling a marionette, which he was dancing around for her amusement. Hoshi was clapping her hands and beaming, obviously smitten with the little wooden figure. Like Trip, she wore traditional clothes, which for females included the same long, loose pantaloons the men preferred, though the cut was slimmer and fit more snugly around the hips. Her top, unlike Trip's vest, was made of a single long piece of chiffon-like fabric which looped behind her neck, then came down to form a lopsided X over her chest, before tying tightly over the small of her back. The long tail streamers that dangled from the knot draped down her legs, reaching almost to her ankles. She had chosen a shade of pale sea green which shone like a beacon through the darker maroons and plums that dominated most of the shoppers.

She looked radiant.

He looked away.

Trip was still arguing with the vendor, but it looked like the merchant was starting to crack. Malcolm had just settled in to watch the collapse, when he became aware of someone watching him. Immediately, his security senses kicked into overdrive, and his gaze swept the street in search of the voyeur. It came to light on a pair of familiar brown eyes, clouded only slightly by a sheen of liquid rainbow.

Hoshi was staring up at him, the wooden marionette clutched close to her chest. A soft, inquisitive smile touched her lips when she saw his eyes find her, and she tilted her head slightly to the side in a silent invitation.

Malcolm licked his lips and shook his head faintly.

Her smile faded a little, replaced by puzzlement. She tilted her head again and waited for his response.

This time, he smiled as he shook his head. "No, Hoshi," he murmured, though she couldn't possibly hear him. "Not tonight."

After a moment, she nodded her head slightly, gave him a small smile, and disappeared into the milling crowd.

Malcolm sighed and closed the window. Leaning heavily against the wall, he let his eyes focus on the warm fire that crackled in his room's hearth. "Not tonight," he murmured again. "Not tonight, tomorrow night, or any bloody night from now till the Pearly Gates." He closed his eyes and let his chin touch his chest. "Shame."

With a resigned sigh, he pushed away from the wall and crossed the room to stretch out on his bed. He closed his eyes, resigned to getting a little shut eye. The fact that he was fully clothed, sans shoes, didn't faze him; there were plenty of nights he slept in his uniform back on board _Enterprise_ , though those were usually by accident. He always felt strange disrobing on alien planets; as if he'd wake in the morning to find some peculiarly unpleasant form of extraterrestrial bug had crawled into one of his more private orifices. The thought alone made him shudder.

A soft knock on his door a few minutes later roused him from his light doze. Frowning slightly, he stood up and crossed the smooth wood floor. Opening the door a crack, he peered out into the hall.

"May I come in?" Hoshi asked, smiling.

Malcolm blinked. Here, frankly, was something he hadn't been expecting. "I beg your pardon?" he asked, trying to regain some balance.

"May I come in?" she asked again, her smile widening. "I brought fruit!" she offered cheerfully, bringing a hand out from behind her back to reveal two appagranates.

"Oh. Oh, certainly." Stepping back, he opened the door and gestured for her to enter.

"It's getting a little chillier out there, so I figured it was time to come in," Hoshi told him as she walked into the room, fruit in one hand, marionette in the other. He closed the door, and forced himself not to look at the creamy span of her back, which was left largely exposed due to her costume.

"It's going to rain," he informed her, leaning against the door.

"I know. I can smell it on the air. I love the smell of rain, don't you? It smells the same on almost every planet we've been to so far. It's good for homesickness. Or so I've been told." Malcolm smiled as he watched her look around the room. "Your walls are painted differently from mine. Mine are this gorgeous shade of maroon. Yours are closer to scarlet." She smiled at him. "Doesn't this planet feel like a fairy tale?"

He chuckled. "More like one of the Arabian Nights," he replied, nodding to her leggings.

Hoshi grinned. "I feel like Scherezade," she giggled, turning an elegant circle for him. "All I need are seven veils."

Malcolm hoped she couldn't see his blush in the firelight.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, holding out one of the appagranates for him. "You only picked at your food at dinner, and I didn't see you down in the market. You must be starving."

The fruit had a hard, textured rind, much like an orange. //Perhaps I should call it an apporangate,// he thought with amusement. "Eating too much makes a person drowsy, and one must always be vigilant on a new planet, even if the people seem friendly." He managed to pry off some of the rind, and sweet-smelling red juice ran over his thumb before he caught it with his mouth.

A quiet laugh was Hoshi's reply. "Malcolm, you make every first contact mission into something out of boot camp," she told him, popping a section of the lush red fruit into her mouth and licking the juice off her fingers.

"I'd prefer to overreact now, rather than regret not reacting quickly enough later on," he said, forcing himself not to stare as she sucked juice off her fingertips. "It's how I've stayed alive this long."

"Do I detect the tale of a rough and rowdy past behind that excuse?" Hoshi teased gently, grinning around a piece of fruit she held delicately between her teeth.

Malcolm blanched. "Not at all," he told her quickly. "I've never-"

"Relax, Lieutenant, I'm just joking," Hoshi assured him with a smile, then turned around to go to the window. "Why did you close it?"

"Like you said, it was getting colder." He sat carefully on the edge of his bed and pulled free a section of his fruit. "I didn't want to catch a chill while I slept."

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Hoshi spun around, apology evident in her eyes. "Did I wake you up? I should have thought of that before I came barging in. I can go, if you'd like."

"No, no that's all right," he assured her. "I was only sleeping for lack of something better to do. Talking with a friend certainly counts as something better." He smiled to let her know it was all right.

She smiled a little in response. "Well, if you say so." The silky material of her leggings swished together as she crossed the room to sit beside him on the bed. "Why weren't you down in the market? There is some AMAZING stuff down there." She held up her marionette for him to see. "Like George for instance. George, meet Malcolm"

The little wooden puppet did a hopping dance on his knee in greeting, and Malcolm laughed. "Pleased to meet you, George," he said, going so far as to shake the puppet's finely jointed wooden hand. "As for why I wasn't at the market..." He shrugged vaguely. "I don't much care for crowds."

"Same here," Hoshi agreed. "Claustrophobia, remember? But I couldn't resist. The smells alone...! In fact..." Her eyes flicked to the window, then back to his face. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all."

"George, be good." She sat the marionette on the bed between herself and Malcolm, then hopped up to scamper across the room and open the dual-paned window, letting in the fragrant scents and cheerful noises of the bazaar. A gust of wind swept into the room, tossing her hair slightly and making the sleek material of her pantaloons flatten against her shapely legs.

Malcolm swallowed.

"It's beautiful, don't you think?" he heard her murmur, and watched her set the remnants of her fruit on the window ledge so she could cross her arms to ward off the chilly air. "It's like we've stepped back in time to some fantasy world."

Setting his own fruit on the bedside table, he went to join her by the window. "Quite lovely," he murmured, letting his eyes roam down her back, over her bum, and further down to her ankles, before slowly sliding up again. "Like a dream."

"A very good dream."

"The sweetest."

"Malcolm?"

"Mmm?"

She turned towards him then, and her sumptuous brown eyes shone golden through their rainbow mist. "Why did you choose tattoos that looked like tears?"

Taken aback, he took a moment to answer. "I... It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Did it?" One of her small hands came up to touch his cheek, carefully tracing the outline of one of his tear-shaped tattoos. He had six altogether, three on each side, forming two straight lines that fell to just below his cheekbone on both sides of his face. "Why?"

Flustered by her questions and her hands, he shook his head. "I'm not sure." He brought a hand up to follow the line of Hoshi's tattoos, a series of dots which formed a crescent that stretched around the outer corner of each eye from cheekbone to eyebrow. "Why did you choose this?"

"Eyes are the window to the soul," she told him simply. "I wanted people to see mine, so they'd know who I was."

"That's a very good reason."

"It seemed like it. Does it work?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you know who I am?"

He blinked. "Of course I do. You're Ensign Hoshi Sato, communications officer aboard -"

She laughed quietly and shook her head. "No, Malcolm. That's my name and title. Do you know who __I__ am?"

He was silent for a moment, then slowly shook his head. "I don't think," he told her quietly, "I'm quite sure who anyone really is. It comes of having a suspicious nature. Sometimes I even doubt myself."

Her fingers moved up from his tattoo to comb gently through the hair at his temple. "That sounds lonely," she murmured, eyes wandering over his face.

"It can be," he said quietly, voice hoarse. "But you adapt."

She shook her head. "No one should adapt to being lonely. It's unnatural."

"Not for an armory officer."

"Then you should fraternize more with the comm officers. We're a sociable bunch."

"Fraternization between officers is-"

"Shhhh..." A slender finger rested over his lips as Hoshi smiled up into his eyes. "We're not officers right now. We're a pair of Su'eel who have spent all day at the market, and our blood is running high. We're working off a little tension, that's all." She leaned steadily closer. "Understand?"

Malcolm knew this was wrong. Every moral fiber in his body was screaming in protest, reading him regulations and the riot act, but God help him, he couldn't take his eyes off her lips. They sparkled slightly, like the rest of her skin, inviting him closer. He accepted the invitation and leaned in.

##############

The kiss was electric.

He tasted like the tart, sweet juice of alien fruit, but beneath that was a darker, moodier flavor that could only be Essence of Malcolm. Burrowing her fingers through his dark hair, Hoshi let her tongue idly brush over his lips, and felt a thrill of excitement arch through her as his mouth opened to let her in.

This was unexpected. The fruit, the kiss, everything. She hadn't expected to come here tonight. Even as she left the street to make for her own room, this hadn't been on the books. But as she passed his door and thought of how heartbreakingly alone he'd looked as she gazed up at him from the street below, she couldn't keep herself from knocking to check on him. It had all been perfectly innocent and platonic at first, but as so often happened when she was in his presence for longer than a few minutes, her thoughts had quickly detoured into unsafe territory, bombarding her with memories of him shirtless in decon, or sweating at the gym, or holding her arm and pressing against her back as he took her through proper phase pistol procedures.

She'd held up admirably, she thought. Too bad he looked so sexy in that damn vest.

A moan ebbed past her lips as the kiss finally broke and they stood gasping together by the open window. "Oh my," she panted, aware of how much she was understating the situation, but too breathless to think of a better analysis. "Oh... wow..."

Something that sounded like a growl was Malcolm's response, and then he was kissing her again, simultaneously sweeping her off the floor and carrying her away from the window and towards the bed. Hoshi let herself fall completely into the kiss, kicking off her delicate slippers and scrubbing her thoughts free of any cursory guilt that might rear its ugly head. Nothing that felt this good could really be that bad, she decided; and if it was, then she would gladly take the consequences.

"Hoshi," he murmured against her lips as the kiss broke for the second time. They were hovering beside the bed now as he waited for her response. "I understand if-"

"Just move George," she interrupted breathlessly before he could continue. "I don't want to break him."

He smiled then, and stretched her out carefully on the bed before quickly picking up George and sitting him haphazardly on the bedside table. "He can guard the appagranate," the armory officer said quickly as he stripped off his vest and knelt beside her on the soft mattress.

"The what?" she asked as he helped her sit up. She lifted her hair and bent forward so he could work on the knot of her shirt unimpeded.

"The fruit," he responded. "That's what I've taken to calling it."

"Creative."

"I can be creative in lots of ways," he told her evasively, and she shivered as she felt the knot come undone. Malcolm's hands slowed, and he held the shirt closed against the small of her back as she sat straight again and gazed into his eyes. "May I?" he murmured.

She nodded. "Please."

He smiled reassuringly and slowly unwrapped the simple top. Hoshi closed her eyes when she felt the pressure of the chiffon material leave the back of her neck as he slid it away like a scarf. The cool air from the window and crackling heat of the fire dueled against her torso as he stripped away the material and left her bare. Immediately her nipples hardened, and she crossed her arms self-consciously over her chest to cover them.

"Please," she heard him murmur, and opened her eyes to see him looking at her. "You don't have to do that."

"I was just a little cold," she said quietly, feeling a blush heat her cheeks and color the tops of her breasts. Carefully, she lowered her arms.

He exhaled shakily as his eyes raked over her upper body. A soft glow of pride lit up in Hoshi's belly as she watched him watch her; it had been too long since a man had given her this kind of attention. Not since Ravis.

"Bloody..." he muttered, reaching out a hand to stroke the side of one breast, making her shiver again. "You don't know... how long..."

"Shhhhh..." she soothed, cupping his cheek and running her thumb over his cheekbone. "No more waiting. I promise."

He didn't look up to acknowledge her words; instead, he leaned forward and pressed a shaky kiss to the skin above her heart. His hands were trembling slightly as they held her hips, and she got the feeling that he was holding himself back; reining himself in to keep from tearing her apart in his lust. It made her feel like a goddess, knowing he wanted her so badly. It made her want to strip naked and stretch catlike on the bed in front of him, like an enticing, untouchable harem girl. He made her want to do lots of things that her otherwise sensible nature knew were improper.

Propriety, she decided as his lips wrapped around her left nipple and began to suck, could take a flying leap. Debauchery was definitely more worth it.

###############

Hoshi tasted like Hoshi smelled and Hoshi looked: sweet and seductive, with a trace of bad girl just beneath the surface. As armory officer, he had long ago honed all his senses to pick up on the smallest details of a person's nature; to have his suspicions confirmed now by three senses - sight, smell, and taste - was gravy. Her nipple was a hard, warm pebble in his mouth, and each pull he gave was met with an answering moan from the communications officer. Her fingers were tunneling through his hair with fierce determination, holding him in place, tugging him closer.

"Malcolm... Oh yes..." she gasped as he rolled the bud between his teeth and felt her arch beneath him, her flat, toned stomach rubbing against his chest. "Oh God..."

He released her nipple and heard her whine with frustration. "Shhh," he said with a smile, pulling himself up over her and rolling her opposite nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He watched her eyes go starry again from the sensation as he continued. "There are other parts of you that need attention, Ensign, and I intend to go over them thoroughly, inch by inch. Do you understand?"

She tried to fix him with a pout, but seemed to be having difficulty getting her facial muscles to work correctly. "You're teasing me."

"Only a little." He pinched the nubbin between his fingers and was gratified to feel her shudder in tandem with her moan of pleasure. "But I promise, I always follow through."

"You'd better," she panted, grabbing his face between her hands. "Or else I'll have to use some of my standard Starfleet combat training on you."

"I believe I taught you much of that combat training, Ensign. I know how to block anything you can throw."

"I never said I wanted to win." Her eyes sparkled.

A huge grin suffused his face. Finally, a woman who could - literally - throw as well as she could catch. "Do you understand the concept of distracting your opponent?" he asked.

"Of course I doOOH!" Her back arched as his hand, which had slid away from her breast, slipped under the waist of her leggings and delved between her thighs. Her legs widened instinctively as Malcolm eased his fingers between her lower lips and began idly stroking her clit. She wasn't wearing any panties; interesting. "Malcolm!"

"That's my name, yes." Leaning forward, he began dropping kisses down her throat; feathersoft kisses, meant to drive her insane above even as his fingers pushed her closer to the edge down below. "What else do you know?"

Hoshi's hips flexed against his hand as her fingers wrapped around his wrist, holding him in place. Her face was twisted into the most gorgeous grimace of pleasure he could remember seeing, and he had seen many; been the cause of most. "I know...other maneuvers," she panted, turning her eyes on him; a luscious shade of violet moved in waves over her brown irises.

"Such as?"

"I've always been fond... of the frontal assault." With a groan, she planted her hands on his shoulders and Malcolm found himself rolled onto his back, staring up into Hoshi's lusty gaze as she straddled his hips. A husky gasp escaped his lips as her pelvis rubbed against the bulge in the front of his pants. "Isn't this nice?" she purred.

"Stunning," he agreed, winded.

"And I'm not even finished yet. First off... ohhhhh, yes..." This last as she slowly drew his hand out of her own pantaloons. "You've got... the best fingers in Starfleet, Lieutenant," she moaned, finally freeing his hand.

"Thank you."

"They're nimble," she continued, bringing his hand up to eye level so she could examine it in the firelight. Her juices shimmered on his fingertips. "Is that because you do such close work?" Without pretext, she lowered his hand enough to slide his forefinger into her mouth and began to suck.

"Artillery can be a remarkably delicate business," Malcolm said absently, watching in awe as her cheeks fluttered with each suck. Her eyelashes made a dark, feathery fringe against her cheek. "Most people don't know that..."

"Mm...." She took his finger from her mouth. "I'd be happy to tell them," she said, moving on to the next finger.

"No need." He swallowed as her tongue danced in circles around his knuckle. "They wouldn't believe you anyway."

A sharp pang of disappointment burned in his stomach as she took his finger from her mouth. "That's because they're idiots," she told him, turning his hand over and laving the palm with her tongue. "But I don't think I WILL tell them. Then I'd have to explain how I know, and then they might start wanting to find out for themselves. I think I'd rather keep it between you and me, if you don't mind."

"Not at all."

"Good boy." It was ridiculous, how much he liked being called her _good boy_ , even if it did make him sound like a lap dog. But then, what a lap to rest in! "Take your pants off."

He blinked. "I beg your pardon?" he asked.

"You heard me." Setting his hand down on his bare stomach, she stood up on the bed so that her feet were straddling his knees. Standing like that, she looked like a statue carved in alabaster of some conquering deity. "In combat, there must eventually come a victory, correct? Which means there must be a treaty, or some other kind of surrender document. Now, I'm willing to accept your full surrender, but you have to give me something, and I demand your pants."

"What if I'm not willing to surrender just yet?" he asked, warming to the game.

"Then I'll have to keep torturing you."

"And how," he asked, "would you do that?"

"Well, this comes to mind." Placing her hands on her hips, she began to shimmy out of her silky pantaloons. She paused when they were halfway off her hips. "Are you ready to give in yet?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.

Malcolm swallowed. "I...DON'T think so," he told her. "Not just yet."

"How about...now?" she asked, pushing the leggings a little lower. He could just see that enticing V between her legs now.

"I think I'm cracking," he said hoarsely. "One more good blow, and I'm sure I'll crumble."

"One more good blow, huh?" She grinned wickedly. "Guess I'll have to pull out the big guns then." And she pushed the leggings off the rest of the way.

###################

The silky material pooled around her ankles as Hoshi stood over him, hands on her hips, watching his face. It was easy enough to act sure of herself when she was talking to him, but as always happened when she was in this type of situation, there was a butterfly of fear in her stomach that he'd take one look at her, laugh, and turn her away. Just one more fear piled on top of a heap of others that seemed to rule her life.

Malcolm, however, didn't seem ready to pitch her out the door just yet. Quite the opposite, actually; his eyes were fixed squarely on her pelvic region, making her blush under his scrutiny. "So?" she asked, trying to distract him. "Do you give?"

"Anything you want," he agreed, nodding but not looking away. "Absolutely anything."

"Your pants?"

"Pants, shirt, rank, role in the universe." Finally, his eyes flicked up to meet hers. She was a little shocked to see that his dark blue eyes were covered in a shifting sheen of smoldering black. "You can have my soul, if you'd like it. I think you'd get more use out of it than I do."

Her face softened as she gazed down at him. "I'll settle for the pants just now," she told him quietly, stepping out of her leggings and sinking down onto her knees across his legs. "We'll talk about the rest later."

He nodded, his eyes still fastened firmly on hers, until she was forced to look away to work on his pants. Unlike her own, the waist was belted rather than elasticated. Unbuckling the belt, she tugged on the material, trying to pull it off his body. Malcolm raised his hips obligingly to help her, and she was able to work the pants - and the regulation blue Starfleet boxers beneath - down to his knees. She heard him moan, and looked up to see his eyes closed, lips slightly parted, as his chest rose and fell shakily in time with his ragged breathing.

"Does this feel good?" she asked softly, running her fingers down the sensitive underside of his shaft. She had taken part in more than one poll amongst the female crewmembers aboard _Enterprise_ about which male crewmember had ... well, had the biggest crew MEMBER. She always placed her money on Malcolm.

Looking at him now, she knew she'd made the sure bet.

"God, yes," he shuddered out, his lean muscles tightening into cords. She saw his fingers flex and clench as he tried to control himself. "Fookin' luvely..."

She laughed quietly, tucking that piece of knowledge away for later use. When he got horny, British Malcolm Reed turned into UltraBrit. "How about this?" She curled her fingers around his cock and began pumping; gently at first, then with increasing speed.

"Gyaaaaah...!" he cried out, back arching away from the mattress as she worked him. "Oh shite...!"

She clucked her tongue. "Naughty," she chided teasingly. "Your language gets dirty when you're turned on, Lieutenant. I think there's a regulation somewhere about that."

"Guuuhhhh..."

"What was that? Did you just ask me to stop?" She stilled her hand.

"NO!" he exclaimed, eyes flying open as he pushed himself onto his elbows to stare at her with horror. "Don't...!"

She grinned at him. "Sorry," she said. "Here, let me kiss it better."

She leaned forward before she could see the expression on his face. Tucking her raven hair behind her ear, she kissed first one side of his dick, then the other, then ran her tongue nimbly around the tip, dispensing of the pre-cum that gathered there. She wasn't surprised to see that his dick - and the immediate surrounding areas - were the only parts of him that weren't sparkling. He obviously hadn't intended to get lucky with any of the local ladies. Trip, on the other hand, had taken the full body treatment, leaving him open to no end of teasing. Hoshi had agreed to full body as well, though she didn't really care one way or another. There was only one man she wanted to get into bed, and luckily for her, that was precisely what she'd managed to do.

"Hoshi."

His voice sounded slightly strangled, so she looked up at him before sliding her mouth any further down his shaft. "Yes, Malcolm?"

His Adam's apple bobbed, and he reached one hand down to lace through her hair. "I appreciate it, luv," he murmured, sending a delighted shiver down her spine at the endearment. "But if you... do that, I'm never going to make it through the home stretch, as the Americans say." His fingers massaged her scalp. "And I'd rather have that with you, than this just for me."

A soft smile touched her lips as she leaned into his palm. "You're a softie under that tough exterior," she murmured.

"It's a well-guarded secret," he said quietly in return.

"I'll keep it between the two of us." Slowly, Hoshi stalked up his body until she hovered over him, nose to nose. "Say something else American."

"What?" His fingers combed her hair behind her ear.

"The way you said _home stretch_. I loved it. Say something else like that."

He grinned. "Tailgate party."

"Mmmm, keep it coming."

"The Cola Wars."

"Ooooh, nostalgic now."

"I try to please."

"And you succeed."

He laughed. "If it's all the same to you, Hoshi luv," he said with a smile, "I'd rather like to make love to you now."

"Please do," she said in return, hoping he could hear her around the heart in her throat.

##################

The next few motions were fluid and familiar, practiced by the pair of them plenty of times on past lovers, all in preparation, Malcolm presumed, for this precise moment. They rolled smoothly to the side, until Hoshi was tucked comfortably beneath him on the soft mattress. "Don't like being topped, Malcolm?" she asked with an impish smile, her fingers combing through the fine hairs at the nape of his neck.

"Not this time, luv," he murmured, kissing the tip of her nose.

"That's implying there'll be a next time."

"Shhhh." He silenced her with a soft kiss as he nudged her legs apart with one knee. She did him one better and wrapped her legs around his waist, hooking her ankles over the small of his back.

"Malcolm?" she murmured against his cheek.

"Mmm?" he responded, gazing down her body as he adjusted himself at her entrance.

"There WILL be a next time."

His eyes came back up to meet hers. Her face was bathed in fiery orange light and rich blue shadow, cast by the flickering fire. It made her eyes glow different colors: blue and magenta. "Let's see if I survive this one, luv," he said quietly, quirking half a smile. "I've waited so long, it might just kill me."

She laughed, and this time it was her turn to silence HIM with a kiss. She took his face between her hands and kissed him, long and slow; the way a kiss was meant to be. As their mouths dueled warmly, Malcolm took the opportunity to part her lower lips and edge his tip into her.

Hoshi gasped against his mouth, her fingers pressing into his cheeks. "Oh God..." she whispered breathlessly.

Malcolm didn't bother to speak; it would have been a garbled mess anyway. Instead, he gritted his teeth and pushed a little deeper.

"Yes...!" Hoshi exclaimed huskily, her back arching. Her heels dug into his tailbone, forcing him to go further and further into her hot passage.

Sparkles that had nothing to do with their alien makeup flashed in front of Malcolm's eyes. He held himself above her on his arms, sinking slowly and inexorably into her body, but kept his head bowed, his face buried in her rich, sweet smelling hair. THIS, he decided, was worth trading his soul for.

Hoshi started thrusting first; Malcolm would have liked to linger a little longer, unmoving, but far be it from him to stand in the way of progress. He felt her slim hips begin to grind against his and lost all capacity for rational thought. With a feral growl, he started to rock into her.

"Malcolm! YES!" Hoshi cried, her fingernails clawing at his back. The pain drove him wild, and he let loose, slamming into her with all the pent up desire he'd harbored since their first day aboard _Enterprise_. "OH GOD!" she wailed. "OH GOD, MORE!" He obliged, grabbing her hip in one strong hand and squeezing as he pistoned in and out, in and out. Chaotic images of tigers in a steamy, spiced jungle shot through his mind.

She was beginning to stall; he could feel her silky muscles tightening around him in preparation for that final shattering explosion. "Yes, Hoshi," he whispered against her ear. "Anytime, luv..."

She whimpered for him, twining her arms around his neck and pressing her forehead against his shoulder. "Now... now, oh God, nowwwww..." she moaned, then cried out as, with a jerk and a sharp cry, she climaxed, crashing around him like a tidal wave.

"Hoshi...!" he exclaimed, pressing his face into the crook of her neck. One stroke... Two... On the third he sank his teeth into her collarbone as he pushed in to the hilt and came, breaking apart like spun sugar in a hurricane, more than happy to come to rest on a warm, breathing cushion of Hoshi.

################

They lay together for long minutes afterward, unspeaking, barely moving, heartbeats synchronizing. Hoshi knew that if she spoke first, Malcolm would roll off her, in gentlemanly fashion, and she wasn't ready to give up his weight just yet. So she stayed quiet, combing her fingers through his damp hair.

"Do you think I left a mark?" he mumbled, breaking the silence first. One of his hands was tenderly fondling her left breast.

"Maybe."

"Bloody stupid of me if I did." His lips touched the place on her collarbone where he'd bitten her during his orgasm. "I couldn't have put it in a more obvious place."

"Sure you could have," she said with a smile, and lapsed into a Transylvanian accent. "You could 'ave beet me on zee neck like a vampire."

She felt him laugh, and knew everything was okay. "Hoshi..." he chuckled, raising his head to look at her.

"That's my name all right. What else do you know?" She grinned at him.

"Apparently not as much as I thought I did." His hand moved up from her breast to stroke her cheek. "I never thought this could happen, you know. I always thought it was just a laddish dream"

She leaned into his touch. "Then I'm glad the student could finally teach the teacher something."

He smiled.

A moment passed. "So..." she said quietly.

His eyes went serious. "Yes," he murmured, looking away and pillowing his cheek on her chest again. "I know."

"Malcolm, this doesn't have to be a one-time thing," she murmured, rubbing his back. "If we keep it low key, don't let it affect our job performance..."

"I don't know if I could keep it low key, Hoshi, luv," he said softly. "Not with you."

"Well I'm not willing to give you up," she said firmly, determined not to lose him to his bloody-minded sense of propriety.

"Hoshi-"

"No. End of discussion. I order you to make love to me every night from now until we're both too old to care anymore. Understood?"

He cocked an amused eyebrow at her. "Who's the Lieutenant here, Ensign?" he asked.

"Well since you're obviously not in your right mind, I remove you from duty," she replied, nodding. "That means I own your ass."

He laughed. "You already did, luv," he said, leaning up to peck her on the lips.

"Promise?" She wrapped her arms around his neck again.

"On all I hold dear."

"Well good then. That's settled."

"I suppose it is. Besides," he continued, rolling them onto their sides and cuddling her close, "we can't just be two ships in the night. I'm not fond of water at the best of times, and I'd rather not travel the oceans alone."

She smiled and tucked her face into his throat. "You make good excuses, Malcolm," she cooed. "You'd make a great spy."

He chuckled. "Oh, if only you knew the things I could do, Hoshi. Perhaps I'll show you someday."

"I'll hold you to that, sailor."

"Yes, ma'am."

They were silent for a few minutes, listening to the fire crackling in the hearth. It had started to rain outside, and the drops fell like footsteps on the windowpane. "Do you think we should have closed the window first?" Hoshi asked after a moment. "I did... scream sorta loud." She blushed.

Malcolm shook his head above her. "Why bother? To everyone else, we're just a couple of nameless Su'eel working off a little tension, right?"

"Trip, Travis and T'Pol know better."

"True, but Travis will keep quiet, T'Pol will show discretion, and Trip will stay silent because you can bet he's got some lovely Su'eel lass tucked into his bed somewhere anyway. There's a reason his last name is Tucker."

She laughed and held him and listened to the rain. This planet was better than a fairytale, she decided. No fairytale ended THIS happily; and they hadn't even met a witch along the way.

 

_THE END_


End file.
